I'm driving down my old street
towards your house and past the park
where I saw you for the last time
but didn’t know it was the last--
the air smells like flowers
but there cannot be flowers here
because nothing is alive anymore
now that we have gone.
The closer I get to your house
the more I want to ask you,
do you remember all the conversations
we had on these roads? Do you
remember the songs we played for
each other and how many times we
said we would never leave one another?
I do. And I remember them because you
are not here to remember them with me.
I pull into your driveway and stare
at the door. I fear knocking because
what if it’s not you anymore?
And that’s when I realize the horror
of age. You grow and move on but
the memory lingers. Like a book you
can’t stop reading because you love the
story so much, but the author quit the series
because it was time to grow up.
Now we have grown up.
We will never know each other again
like we did back then.
towards your house and past the park
where I saw you for the last time
but didn’t know it was the last--
the air smells like flowers
but there cannot be flowers here
because nothing is alive anymore
now that we have gone.
The closer I get to your house
the more I want to ask you,
do you remember all the conversations
we had on these roads? Do you
remember the songs we played for
each other and how many times we
said we would never leave one another?
I do. And I remember them because you
are not here to remember them with me.
I pull into your driveway and stare
at the door. I fear knocking because
what if it’s not you anymore?
And that’s when I realize the horror
of age. You grow and move on but
the memory lingers. Like a book you
can’t stop reading because you love the
story so much, but the author quit the series
because it was time to grow up.
Now we have grown up.
We will never know each other again
like we did back then.